


Visage of a Queen

by dead_stardust



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Buttered noodles at 2 am, Confessions, Demons, Denial of Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied trans man Dante, Late Night Conversations, Loss of Identity, Lots of Crying, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Showers, Train Rides, demon lore stuff, devil may have a mental breakdown, i can have trans man Dante as a treat ok, post DMC1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dead_stardust/pseuds/dead_stardust
Summary: You’ll never have her fire.Trish questions her place in the world.Takes place right after the events of Devil May Cry 1.
Relationships: Dante & Trish (Devil May Cry), Dante/Trish (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	Visage of a Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I have many feelings about Trish and I love her to bits.
> 
> Disclosure: I’ve only played 1, 3, 4, and DmC, so sorry if I got some lore wrong. I want to play 5 but my computer would probably set itself on fire if I did, which is a shame because I got into the games because dirty old cowboy grandpa Dante is hot.
> 
> Anyway I insert some demon headcanons in here because speculation is fun but this is mostly about Trish having a breakdown.

Within a matter of a week, Trish had been born, died, and resurrected once more. Her memory in this current form started as Mundus raised her from a primordial soup of pure hellish energy. She was imbued with consciousness, intelligence, and a little bit of wisdom. She knew her purpose and was sent on her way. Lure the Devil Hunter Dante to Mallet Island, and she could return to the conglomeration of damned souls once more, her purpose having been fulfilled.

She was made in the image of another. Eva, the kind and loving mother of Dante. Trish was given the knowledge that she was created to look like someone important to him, but Mundus didn’t tell her right away.

Seeing Dante’s face as he told her that she would never amount to his mother, that she would never have her fire, her humanity, her _emotions_ …

Her hair whipped in her face as the two flew away from the island. Her purpose hadn’t been fulfilled. The complete opposite. Her master, her creator, was dead, and she was now traveling back with the man she betrayed.

All was silent. Consequences would be dealt with when they would return to wherever the hell Dante was taking her. A ditch where he could put a bullet in the back of her brain, perhaps.

“What do you think you’re gonna do?” Dante asked as they boarded the train. “Do you have a home to go back to?”

Trish shrugged and pulled an arm around herself, holding the other arm. “I didn’t have a plan…”

“You can stay with me for the time being,” Dante said. “Until you find a better gig, or you’re sick of me. I’ve got a spare room in my apartment. We can run jobs together. You’re my sidekick now, right?” He flashed a wide smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” Trish replied. She returned the smile, then looked out of the window at the night sky against the city. “You live with your girlfriend? Will I be intruding?”

“I’m not- I’m not dating anyone,” he said dismissively. “It’s just me and one of my business associates sometimes. She stays over on occasion.”

The train tumbled on. Only the two of them were in the car. Two in the morning, it would be highly unlikely for either of them to see anyone else.

“You, you have- uh-? Wait, that’s a dumb question,” Dante said.

“What?”

“You have a boyfriend?” Dante asked.

“Demons don’t really date,” Trish said. “When we’re in heat, someone ends up beating the shit out of another one so they can mate.”

“You have a mate, then?”

“I- I can’t remember if I had one before,” Trish said. “But I was- I was sorta created a week ago. But I’ve been around for longer. It’s a cycle of rebirth. Reusing a consciousness. I might have? I might even have _kids_. But the cycle- it disrupts that memory.”

“Why mate and have kids if one’s consciousness is reborn?” Dante asked. “Wouldn’t that lead to overpopulation?”

“The old consciousnesses are put into dummy bodies that a mother demon births,” Trish said. “Didn’t happen with me this time. All I remember… I woke up completely naked in the chapel on the island. I have a few memories of my time before. Natural… natural instincts.”

“You’re a baby demon?” Dante asked.

“It’s hard to explain,” Trish mumbled. She brushed a lock of her hair out of her face. “I think the way I died last time- I mean, before this whole thing… I wanna say my mate killed me. Which happens. Sex is violent, naturally.”

The hybrid furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Mind, uh, not talking about sex? It- the thought of it makes me uncomfortable.”

“That’s alright. I didn’t want to talk about it anyway,” Trish said.

The train pulled into the stop, and the two left. The night air chilled Trish’s bare shoulders, letting a shiver rip through her. As she breathed, her breath trailed off into curls of whiteness.

“Must’a got hit by a cold front,” Dante said. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it to Trish. “Follow me.”

The demon pulled the hybrid’s red leather jacket around her shoulders and followed him as he walked. “No taxis tonight, huh?”

“We might find one running this late. I’m not sure. But it’s a short walk. Don’t you remember coming to my office?”

“It was an instinctual thing. I was tracking _you_ , not your office,” Trish said. She pulled the coat tighter around herself as she followed.

They soon reached the blaring neon lights of the office and entered. The place was oddly clean. The last Trish remembered, the two had destroyed it in a fight. A note lay on the desk.

Dante picked it up and cleared his throat. “Uh… _Came in for ammo, found this place a mess. Spent all day cleaning it. You owe me for this. -L.”_ He crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the trash. “Yet another thing on my tab.”

“L?” Trish asked.

“Lady. My business associate,” Dante said. “Named the shop too.” He ushered her up a set of stairs and unlocked the door to an apartment. “So, my room’s down by the left. Spare one is through here. Aaaand this is the laundry room and bathroom. There’s a door between the shower and the washing machines, so someone can shower while the other does laundry, but I don’t have a roommate, so it’s kind of a useless thing.” He showed off the various areas of the apartment. It wasn’t dirty by any means, but not quite clean. A wrinkled blanket hung over the back of a couch, chairs weren’t pushed into their proper spots at a table, that sort of thing. “If you wanna shower, I’ll get you some pajamas to change into afterwards.”

“That’d be nice,” Trish said, laying Dante’s jacket over the back of a chair. She watched as he went to his bedroom, then took the time to look around.

A small portrait hung on the wall by the entrance, nearly giving the demon a heart attack. Her own face stared back at her, with a loving twinkle in the woman’s eyes and a welcoming smile.

 _“That must be his mother,”_ she thought to herself, mouthing the words. Her heart skipped a beat. What he had said to her echoed in his mind. She’ll never be like his mother.

“I dunno what size you are, but here’s a shirt and some pants,” Dante said as he returned. “I think it’d be kinda weird for me to lend you some underwear, though… If you toss your clothes outside the room, I’ll wash them really quick.” His eyes weren’t on Trish, but on the portrait behind her, as he handed her the black t-shirt and red flannel pants.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, before entering the bathroom.

The place was decently clean, save for the mess of products on the counter. She turned on the tap and stripped down, tossing her clothes out of the doorway just as Dante suggested, as she waited for the water to turn warm.

She noticed something peculiar as she waited. A birthmark on her right ribcage. A thought crossed her mind. _Did Eva have the same one?_ Trish stepped into the shower, letting all of the grease, blood, and dirt that had collected over the course of the assault on Mallet Island wash down the drain. She heard the tumbler on the washing machine rumble over a low hum. Dante was singing something to himself as he worked, it seemed.

The hair care products the man had were quite surprising. The necrotizing musk of demons hid the fact that Dante’s shampoo had a lovely lavender scent. Trish felt her hair soften up as the shower reinvigorated her. She turned up the heat a bit more. If not for her demonic heritage, it would have scalded her flesh. However, it merely turned her a bit pink.

“I’m coming in! Not gonna look!” Dante said, opening the door. He set Trish’s neatly folded clothes on the cabinet and left.

After a few more minutes, the woman left the shower and dried off. Her hair bounced into slight waves after she dried it and combed it out, more in line with the portrait of Eva. She didn’t mean for her hair to curl like that, but no matter how much she combed it out, it did not straighten out again.

Trish dressed and left the bathroom, throwing her towel over the washing machine, then saw Dante waiting at the table. Water boiled on the stove.

“You a fan of buttered noodles?” Dante snickered. “I’m kinda hungry.”

“You don’t have to feed me,” Trish said.

“How long have we been on that island? I’m starving! How aren’t you?” Dante snickered. “All I had was-”

“-I guess I _could_ serve to eat something,” Trish said. “Wait, what did you eat?”

“Uh. So you know how demon blood coagulates into little red orbs?”

“Don’t tell me you ate demon blood,” Trish said.

“Okay but what if I did?” Dante asked.

The two shared a laugh. Trish tossed her hair to the side as she set her head on her hand, staring into Dante’s sparkling blue eyes. His gaze went from happy to a bit shocked. He sat up, then went over to the stove, dumping the macaroni in the pot.

“Hey, may I ask you more dumb demon questions?” Dante asked after he came back.

“Go for it.”

“How’d you get your name? I-I can’t imagine Mundus named you,” Dante said.

Trish curled a lock of hair around her finger. “I... I named myself. When I was coming to your shop, I had passed by a record store. Stopped in it and grabbed a coffee from their cafe. This song was playing on the radio. It was by a pop singer from Italy. Trish Una. She had a song... _Riforma Del Diavolo_. Reformation of the Devil. Told the story of a girl born as the daughter of a great evil, falling in love with the son of a savior. She was able to overcome the circumstances of her birth and realize she had the capacity to be a good person. It... it spoke to me.”

“You know Italian?” Dante asked, almost awestruck.

“Yeah. I guess it was programmed in me,” Trish mumbled.

“I think my mom spoke it. Dad too,” Dante said. He tapped his fingers on the table. “I’ve heard that song. It- I think it fits you.” He turned to see the stove, where the water was bubbling over. He got up and drained the pasta, putting them in bowls with a little sliver of butter each, and returned with the food.

“I tried to kill you.” Trish took her food, but did not eat. Her stomach churned too much to even think about eating.

“That happens. Lots of people have tried to kill me,” Dante smirked.

“You don’t understand,” Trish mumbled. Her fork clinked against the ceramic bowl.

“What’s there to understand?”

The demon’s gaze lingered behind Dante, at the portrait watching the two of them, then she looked away. “I think I’m going to head to sleep, if that’s alright.” She got up, pushing her bowl away.

“You want me to put this in the fridge in case you get hungry?” Dante asked.

“I don’t care,” Trish said. Her throat was hoarse and dry as she nearly stumbled into the spare bedroom. Bare-bones. Just a bed and a nightstand. She threw herself on the sheets and curled up, throwing the covers over her head, as she tried forcing herself to sleep.

_You’ll never have her fire._

A haze of orange hinted at the horizon as Trish sat on the balcony. The sky was dark and yet a pale, indistinct blue, and right at the edge was a grayness where the orange was climbing up. She couldn’t tell if she had slept at all, though she did remember a horrible, impending feeling of… something. Something tugged at her body. Something vague and horrible and overwhelming and desperate to the point where she could no longer stay in bed.

Tears pricked at her face as she waited for the sun to rise. The wrought-iron bars of the balcony’s fencing reflected a face that should not have belonged to her, yet she was born with it.

What was she doing, stealing such a precious thing? Something that belonged to a person - a _human_ \- with a kind, loving heart. Something that Trish did not have. Everything she had was stolen. Her life, her name, her face… she harbored a guess that her voice was even stolen from Eva as well.

She wiped the back of her hand against her face as the dawn broke, and a sob choked her. Her body trembled. Her powers and her birth cemented her as being wholly inhuman, but if she cried like this, then she was no demon…

Footsteps clicked behind her.

“Dante, what am I to you?” Trish rasped.

Dante took a seat next to Trish, still in his own pajamas as well. He wore only a set of pants, exposing a chest riddled with little nicks and white lines of scars across him, the biggest of which were two clean, surgical incisions under both of his pectorals, and one nasty stab through his upper abdomen. Though his demonic healing fixed his body just fine, it seemed the human side of him let him retain some semblance of scarring.

“What _are_ you...?” The man yawned. He rubbed an eye as he still woke up. “Well, my new sidekick, for one-”

“I mean what am I? Demon or human?” Trish snapped. Her lower lip trembled as she tried to retain some sense of dignity.

“I-” He closed his mouth, watching the sun climb over the horizon. “Does it matter?”

“Huh…?”

“What answer of mine will satisfy you? I mean… being human or devil should not define you,” Dante answered.

“No, what do you see me as? That’s what I want to know,” Trish said. She turned to look at him, and he looked back at her. “I need you to be honest with me.”

Dante looked her over with silent contemplation, mulling his answer over in his mind. “I see a woman who’s hurt. Confused. A-a-and she may have the face of my mother, but there’s so much more to her than that. She is not the same person as who she resembles, and shouldn’t walk in that shadow,” he said. He leaned in close, taking her hand. “And I think it’s okay for her to feel hurt and confused, but she shouldn’t worry about that.”

“And what is she? Demon or human?” Trish asked cautiously.

“That answer shouldn’t matter to her. She shouldn’t base her self-image by that,” he said. Dante squeezed Trish’s hand, rubbing a calloused thumb across her knuckles. “She may be born of a demon, but has the most human range of emotions and feelings I’ve seen.” He gave her a warm smile, highlighted by the sun’s rays. “I don’t think it matters if you're a devil or a human. That really doesn’t define your path. And it was wrong of me to assume that you had some sort of darkness inside you at first,” Dante admitted. “You don’t, I promise.” Dante held Trish close, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.

Trish stared out over the waking city, letting her eyes shut. The two sat there for a while as the demon's breath slowed. Birdsong rang quietly in the air. Dante moved his head and rested it against Trish’s, giving her hand a squeeze. “I may have said that you don’t have the same fire as my mother, but that doesn’t mean anything. You can always blaze your own path, you know. We’ll do it together, so you don’t burn out.”

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 12/13: removed a kiss and now it's a general feels fic. Upon further thinking, I feel like a kiss between the two kinda ruined the moment


End file.
